Summer at the Shore (Seashell Bay Book 2) (10 page)

M
organ couldn’t believe that Kristi Buckle’s mean-spirited words were still rolling around inside her head as she and Ryan neared the other side of Hussey Sound. The woman had really pissed her off. If her family hadn’t been such loyal clients, she might not have been able to hold her tongue.

Dammit girl, focus on the great view
.

She caught sight of the massive, rust-colored rock formation on Peaks Island known as The Whalebone. Even the short passage from the B&B dock to Peaks, not much more than a mile in length, had seemed daunting at first. Still, the combination of a tranquil sea and the supercompetent man in the rear seat of the tandem kayak had made her say yes when Ryan proposed they paddle to Casco Bay’s most heavily populated island. She didn’t regret it either, because it was one thing to explore the bay on a ferry or even a little lobster boat but quite another to be slicing low through the waves in a fourteen-foot plastic shell, your butt mere inches above the water.

Exhilarating
was the best word to describe the feeling.
Tiring
was the second best. Although she exercised regularly, did yoga, and thought of herself as in good shape, Morgan knew she’d be sore tomorrow.

“You’re awfully quiet up there, buddy,” Ryan said as they paralleled Peaks Island’s rocky northern shore. They were heading for a beach where they’d stop, rest, and have some of the food she’d stowed in the hatch beneath her thighs.

“I was just trying to keep it together back there in the deep water, Captain. I didn’t want you to keelhaul me for capsizing us,” Morgan joked.

Actually, it had been hard to concentrate on her stroke while fuming over Kristi’s nasty comments. Morgan had always dreamed of walking up the aisle of the old village church of Saint Anne’s, surrounded by her family and friends, about to be married by a beaming Father Michael Malone. And she couldn’t deny that more than once Ryan had been the stand-in for the nebulous groom of her dreams.

“You didn’t really think I’d let us capsize, did you?” Ryan asked.

Morgan took a quick glance over her shoulder. Man, he looked mysterious—and hot—in his wraparound sunglasses. “The thought did cross my mind when we caught those big swells from that lobster boat.”

Ryan laughed. “Come on. The guy slowed practically to a crawl when he saw us.”

Casco Bay lobster fishermen were always considerate of other craft on the water, something Morgan couldn’t say about the joyriders that liked to rip up and down the bay, dodging buoys and traplines. Fortunately, she wore a lightweight safety vest, and Ryan had already taught
her how to get back into the shell if the kayak went over. She was a good swimmer and, with the vest on, she was in no danger unless she somehow got hit in the head and knocked out. Even then, Ryan would make sure she survived. The guy’s strength and skills were downright amazing.

“Getting tired?” he asked, after they passed through the narrow passage between Pumpkin Knob and Peaks.

“Who, me? On second thought, just drop me off at the ferry dock, and I’ll meet you back in Seashell Bay.” She was kidding. Though her shoulders and arms had started to burn, a rest should give her enough gas in her tank for the return crossing.

“Then we’d better rest up now. Over there.” He pointed to a stretch of sandy, seaweed-strewn beach where a line of trees partially concealed the houses perched above. “If you’re still tired after the break, no worries. You can just take it easy on the way back and let me do all the work.”

Though that sounded pretty awesome, the last thing she wanted was for Ryan to think of her as soft or wimpy. “Forget it, pal. I’m up for the challenge.”

“Tough girl, huh? I’m impressed. Good for you.” The admiration in his voice gave her a funny but nice feeling in her stomach.

Ryan rolled out of the kayak as they neared the beach. He shoved it up onto the sand with Morgan still in it, clutching her paddle. A little wobbly, she got out and popped open the hatch beneath her, pulling out a soft-sided cooler with tuna salad sandwiches, chips, and a Hefty bag with carrots, broccoli, and celery. Ryan retrieved four cans of iced Moosehead beer from a hatch behind her. A minute later, they were sitting side by side
on the warm sand, drinking cold beer and munching the food while they enjoyed the cooling breeze off the bay.

They sat together in silence, just enough distance between their bare legs to remain respectable and safe. Morgan gazed out across the picturesque straight between the islands. Two Casco Bay boats passed each other, horns blowing, the passengers waving at each other and at people onshore. Her whole life, watching those trusty little ferries had always given her a sense of peace. The boats seemed somehow symbolic of life on the bay, reliably plying the same routes as they hopped from island to island, rain or shine or snow, season after season, year after year. Those colorful boats had carried her to school, shopping, dancing lessons, proms, vacations, and so many other events in her life. Some of her happiest moments had come when she stepped onto a ferry that would take her home to Seashell Bay and her family and friends.

All that had changed the day she’d boarded a homeward-bound boat in April, grief stricken as she rushed back to deal with the aftermath of her father’s sudden death. Some of the magic had gone out of life on the bay ever since, and Morgan had started to wonder if it would ever fully come back.

Ryan gently bumped her with his shoulder. “Hey, girl, you’ve been in another world most of the afternoon. I’m starting to think I must be boring company.”

She gave a guilty little start. Nothing could be further from the truth, though Morgan had to admit that her mind kept wandering. So often these days she just naturally gravitated toward melancholy. While she was fighting as hard as she could for the inn and to take care of her sister, she couldn’t brush off a persistent hollowed-out feeling—like
control of her life was slipping away a little more with each passing day.

She pulled her knees up and twisted to look at Ryan. He was so awesomely masculine that he took her breath away. His long body—tanned, lean, and hard—was bare except for his blue-and-white board shorts. His chest was worthy of endless admiration, and his strong legs stretched out a mile in front of him.

Morgan dug down deep for something mildly amusing. “Uh-oh, I didn’t realize you were such a delicate flower. If there’s one thing you’ll never be, it’s boring, Butler. So quit fishing for compliments.”

He gave her a mock salute with his beer can. “Then why so quiet?”

She shrugged. “The usual. My mind keeps wandering back to all the problems I’ve got to deal with. I’m sorry about that, because I am having a good time. Really.”

He draped an arm around her shoulders. “I get how hard it is for you right now with Sabrina and the B&B and everything. But don’t forget all the things you’ve got going for you too.”

His arm felt so darn comforting that Morgan gave in to a natural instinct to lean into him. What she would
not
give in to was the instinct to snuggle close. “And what exactly would those things be?”

He tightened his grip a bit. “How about we start with the fact that you’re smart, accomplished, beautiful, and incredibly nice.”

Morgan’s girlie heart gave a little flutter. “Wow, that’s only the start? Then by all means keep going, sir.”

“Well, let’s just say not every sister would be as devoted to Sabrina as you are.”

Oops
. Wrong thing to say, although that wasn’t his fault. Morgan always felt like she wasn’t good enough when it came to her sister. Wasn’t doing enough.

She pulled back a bit. He loosened his embrace but didn’t let go.

“Kristi said something interesting while you and Christian were lugging the kayak down to the beach,” she said. “Something about you.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t X-rated. That woman is terrifying, by the way.”

“She managed to keep it PG.”

“That’s a relief. So what did she say?”

“Oh, that you’d make a great father if some lucky girl ever got you to the altar. That’s pretty much a direct quote.” She watched carefully for his reaction.

Frowning, Ryan took his arm from around her. “She thinks I’d make a good father just because I was nice to her son?”

“You’ve always had a natural way with kids, Ryan. You might have forgotten that.”

“I don’t know. Christian’s just a really nice kid who wants to be good at whatever he does. So he gives it maximum effort every time out. I really like kids like that.”

“So do I,” Morgan said. “The poor little guy just wants to please his parents, and I don’t think he finds that easy.”

“Well, with his attitude, I’d put my money on him over a more gifted kid who thinks everything should be handed to him on a silver platter.”

Morgan agreed. “So you’re really going to take Kristi up on the lessons?”

“Why not? I figure it should be a nice break from work.”

“Christian will be thrilled, and so will his mother,” Morgan said drily. She thought for a few seconds before deciding to take the plunge. “And speaking of his mother, it was obviously none of Kristi’s business—or anyone else’s—as to when some girl gets you to the altar.”

Okay, not the most skillful probing, but his reaction would be instructive.

Ryan’s jaw tightened, and he stared grimly across the channel. “You got that right.”

As a matter of fact, she did get it. “Well, people get curious. Folks here are always sliding questions at me about my so-called love life—when I’m going to get married and start popping out babies. All that stuff. It’s worse now because I’m getting older and don’t have a mother around to field the questions. People sometimes just come right out and ask me point-blank, or tell me I should be married, like saying it will make it so.”

Ryan drew his legs up and propped his arms on his knees. “Mom gets her fair share of that sort of thing when it comes to me.”

“What does she say?”

“I think the gist is that I’m too busy running around the world to settle down.”

Morgan suppressed a sigh. “Sounds about right, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

She didn’t want to press him. He was obviously closed up pretty tight on the subject.

A moment later, Ryan turned to look at her. “What do
you
say when people ask stuff like that?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he really prodding her to talk about her love life? Ryan Butler? The more important question was, why?

She faced him. “You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” he said.

“Okay, mostly I try to blow it off. But if people persist, I’ll go so far as to admit that I do want to get married and have children someday. Only with the right man though. I don’t think I have it in me to be a single parent. It would be too hard.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Boring, huh?”

Ryan pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead, his dark eyes studying her so intently she began to feel nervous.

“Not boring,” he finally said. “Nice. You deserve the right man, Morgan. And he’ll be a damn lucky guy when he finds you.”

And maybe I’m already right under his nose
.

She strongly doubted that he was thinking along any such lines, which meant she shouldn’t either. “It’d probably be easier for him to discover the cure for the common cold than unearth the love of his life in Pickle River, Maine, population ten and falling.”

Ryan choked out a laugh. “That bad, huh?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Trust me, I’m barely exaggerating. So what about you, mystery man? Are you waiting for the right woman? Because you certainly deserve to find her,” she finished with a teasing smile. She didn’t want him to go squirrely on her now by getting too serious.

Ryan turned away again, gluing his gaze on the water. Her heart sinking, Morgan wondered if he was simply ignoring the question.

She shimmied back around, picked up a pebble from the beach, and tossed it as far as she could into the channel. It made a barely perceptible splash. Ryan looked at her again, and she got a jolt at the grim set to his gorgeous mouth and something that looked like pain in his eyes.

“I don’t think of it in those terms,” he said. “In fact, I try not to think about it much at all.”

Annoyed by his cryptic response—and annoyed that she was annoyed—Morgan scrambled for a light response.

“More fun to keep playing the field, huh? I can see why. You must have to fight off scads of women who’d like nothing better than a little attention from big, strong you. You’re such a badass.” She batted her eyelashes.

Weirdly, his gaze narrowed with even greater intensity. It surprised her that he didn’t take the easy out.

“I’ve learned the hard way that it’s not a great idea to get involved,” he said. “Even if somebody could put up with the danger and with only seeing me once in a blue moon, I’m not into that kind of a relationship. They hardly ever work.”

The obvious conviction behind his words took her aback. “You know there are successful military marriages, Ryan, despite long deployments.”

His smile was grim. “You know what the divorce rate is in Spec Ops units?”

Morgan wasn’t about to guess.

“I’ve heard it’s around 80 percent,” Ryan said. “So your chances of success are one in five. And believe me, it’s no better for guys who work for private military contractors.”

She stared at him. “That’s awful. But you won’t be doing that kind of work forever. You told me that at Diamond Cove.”

“No, but it’s where I am now. Would it be fair to a woman to pretend we could have a relationship that would actually last?” He picked up a pebble and launched it out into the channel, far beyond where hers had sunk.

Boy, how could she even respond to that kind of cynicism?

“You’ve told me that teaching means more to you than anything else,” Ryan went on, as if challenging her. “Would you sacrifice your career even if you thought you’d found the right guy?”

His attitude was starting to piss her off. “I don’t know about that, but I’ve certainly given it up now, at least for the time being. Maybe for a long time.” She stared at him, feeling defiant. “And I did it because my sister needs me. That’s more important than my career.”